


Siege

by arbitraryallegory



Series: Dissemble [1]
Category: BIRDMEN - 田辺イエロウ | Tanabe Yellow
Genre: Character Study, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 08:17:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9063856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arbitraryallegory/pseuds/arbitraryallegory
Summary: Karasuma was the kind of person who made you want to protect him and kick his head in at the same time.





	

He found Karasuma on the roof. Though it couldn’t really be called ‘found’ if there had never been any real question regarding his whereabouts.

Karasuma spent a lot of time on the roof since…well, since everything.

As soon as he was close enough, he leaned over the rail, staring down at the ground for a long moment, letting Karasuma become accustomed to his presence. As they stood in silence, he tried to remember what he’d thought about the distance from here to there before he had wings. He couldn’t remember whether the flutter in his stomach had been fear or longing, now.

He supposed it didn’t matter. If he ever voiced such a whimsically macabre thought to Karasuma he was sure he’d get one of those blankly uncomprehending looks in return. It was those looks which, on occasion, made Rei want to throttle their de facto leader to within an inch of his life.

(For some reason, he thought Takayama might understand. And it was for that exact reason that Sagisawa would never, ever tell him. Provided they ever saw him again.)

When he chanced a casual look to his side, he flinched backward a half step at Karasuma’s face. He was totally expressionless, looking almost _bored_ , but his face was wet with tears. As he watched, mesmerized, a fresh cascade overflowed, and dripped steadily from Karasuma’s chin.

His hand reached out automatically to touch Karasuma's shoulder, though it also stopped on its own, just shy of contact. Conflicting impulses raced through his nervous system, paralyzing him mid-gesture. The instinctive urge to comfort his companion through touch—new, weird, uncomfortable, and already nearly irresistible for all of that—warred with the yet equally strong cultural conventions of formality and politeness both he and Karasuma had been raised in.

It was that uncertainty of his welcome that made Rei drop his hand slowly, regretfully. And it was that regret which made him wish he’d gotten Kamoda to come up here, after all. Kamoda was someone who at least possessed a certain lack of self-consciousness, even in uncertainty. And he was Karasuma’s friend; Rei was not.

After a moment, Rei compromised by asking, “Are you alright?”            

Karasuma looked at him, bewildered. “Excuse me?”

Rei blinked. Did even that simple question cross some boundary? “You’re crying?” he said uncertainly, the lilt at the end making it a question, rather than the statement he’d meant it to be.

Karasuma reached up and touched his face, frowning when his fingers came away wet. “Oh,” he said softly.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Rei asked tentatively.

Karasuma gave him a sardonic look, though one corner of his mouth quirked slightly. “I’d rather cut out my own tongue, thanks. No offense.”

Yeah, that’s about what Rei had thought he’d say.

“I’m fine,” he continued, and scrubbed the tears from his face. Rei didn’t have to have supernatural powers of truth detection to know that was a lie, but he decided not to push it.

“Aren't you going to class?”

Karasuma looked up at the sky. “Yeah, in a bit.”

Rei gazed at him a bit longer. “He’ll come back when he’s ready, you know,” he said impulsively, regretting it almost instantly. He didn’t know that, and neither did Karasuma. And Karasuma hated platitudes. Rei just wanted to offer what comfort he could, even if it was empty, even if the person he was offering it to would only rend it asunder, rather than take it into his black little heart.

As certain as he was that he was about to be blasted with acid laced sarcasm, it was almost, _almost_ a disappointment when Karasuma simply said, “Hmm,” without looking away from the sky. And that, of all things, made Rei snap.

 **We’re still here, you know** , he tweeted sharply. **Right here on the ground.**

Karasuma looked at him, startled, that blank incomprehension out in full force and Rei entertained the desire, just for a moment, to push him right over the rail and watch him fall.

Rei wasn’t sure that he liked Karasuma most of the time. In fact, most of the time he was sure that he _didn’t_. Karasuma was caustic, bordering on cruel, with a viciousness he was careful to temper in public, but which had scared both Rei and Tsubame the rare times he’d been unable to contain it. He was not a comfortable person to know, or to have sustained contact with. But Rei had to admit his cleverness and relentlessly pessimistic analyses had saved their collective behinds no few times. Karasuma often lamented that the only thing that had kept Takayama alive and free this long was blind luck or the gods’ favor, and Rei privately agreed. So even if he didn’t particularly like Karasuma as a person, he was useful to have around—and there was something else, something undefinable. A possessiveness or protectiveness that Rei had only felt after he Awakened, toward all the members of their small club. They were _his._ Even Karasuma. Perhaps especially Karasuma, who had resisted the hardest and longest, then had suddenly reversed directions and flung himself into their new reality with zeal. Who was so confident in his mind but so uncertain in everything else about himself. Who was a confusing mass of contradictions and exceptions; as sharp as glass and just as fragile.

Rei had never known someone who was so fragile and so strong at the same time. Perhaps it wasn’t dislike at all that Rei felt toward him. Perhaps it was envy. Most of the time he just felt fragile, like a strong wind could scatter him. Sugar glass, rather than the real stuff.

Rei sighed when Karasuma continued to look at him warily, not responding either way. He didn’t know what good he’d done, if any, but Karasuma’s eyes were at least dry now. He stuck his hands in his pockets to hide his clenched fists, and hoped, wherever he was, Takayama’s ears were ringing hard enough to give him a headache. “Go to class,” he insisted, then turned back to the door no one had ever bothered to lock again after the last time.

 **I’m sorry,** came the ghost of a whisper in his mind. And somehow he wasn’t surprised, when he looked over his shoulder one last time, to see that Karasuma was no longer there.

 


End file.
